


Help! I'm Stuck in a Cam Girl's Body!

by EvilFuzzy9



Category: Original Work
Genre: Body Swap, Degradation, F/M, Female Solo, Large Breasts, Loss of Identity, Masturbation, Mind Manipulation, Mindfuck, Rule 63, Webcam/Video Chat Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-06
Updated: 2016-08-06
Packaged: 2018-07-29 18:41:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7695199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EvilFuzzy9/pseuds/EvilFuzzy9
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kellsie is a cam girl who wants out of the business. She finds a way, and now all she needs is nice, well-off Sam Savage to help... [rule 63, body swap, mindfuckery]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Help! I'm Stuck in a Cam Girl's Body!

Chestnuts was a small diner in a small town smack dab middle of Nowhere, USA. It was not a particularly successful establishment; for the most part its clientele consisted of truck drivers in the middle of long road hauls, rumbling down the asphalt causeways like modern caravans. Dully yellow fluorescent lights buzzed in a cracked and crusty plaster ceiling while tinny country music warbled from decades old speakers.  
  
Kellsie hated it here. Most of the clients were between two and three times her age, and even if not particularly rude they weren't much fun to interact with. They were  _boring_. There was nothing she had in common with the old geezers, and no joy to be found in waitressing. She hated this job. She hated it almost as much as she hated her night job.  
  
It was difficult to say which she was more tired of. She earned little as a waitress and got little else out of the work, but if working as a camgirl was more profitable it was also more stressful, more  _demeaning_. Kellsie wasn't the kind of person who thought there was anything fundamentally WRONG about exposing her body to strangers for cash—better done with the relative anonymity of the web, at least.  
  
Hell, there'd been a time when she really enjoyed being a camgirl. She was damned attractive, and she damn well knew it, and she'd always liked some affirmation of her good looks. When she first got into that business it had been just a lark, something done for a few kicks and some extra bucks. She'd had fun with it, even, when just starting out.  
  
But as with most things, familiarity bred contempt. Kellsie was tired of camming, tired of taking off her clothes and acting like a slut for complete strangers on the internet. She wanted a way out, and after a long time searching she'd finally found one.  
  
Now she just had to wait for her sucker.  
  
  
  
  
Sam Savage walked in the door of Chestnuts. He saw Kellsie almost right away, and he couldn't help staring appreciatively. God, but she was  _hot_. It didn't seem right for a sexy little thing like that to waste the best years of her life working a thankless minimum wage job. He'd get her out of here if he could.  
  
Philanthropy was hardly his motivation, of course. If he had any reasons for wanting to provide the young woman with a leisurely existence, they were the two large and perky tits just barely restrained by her shirt, or else the tight peach of an ass shrink-wrapped in those jeans, or those long legs and dainty feet.  
  
"Hey, good looking," he said to Kellsie, looking a fair way south of her eyes as she sashayed up to him. The restaurant was empty but for a fat, bearded old man who might have made a convincing Santa Claus if not for the lazy eye and yellowing teeth. "What's cooking?"  
  
The waitress smiled at Sam. Not because she found his comment amusing. Far from it, he was sure that inwardly she groaned at the disgustingly trite greeting. But Kellsie was always indulgent of his bad jokes, ever willing to banter with him about sports or politics or their favorite webseries.  
  
"Nothing much," said Kellsie lightly, flashing a brilliant smile. She puffed out her chest and greeted him with such a pair of bedroom eyes that in a more private setting Sam might have been tempted to throw her down and have his way with her.  
  
But he just smiled back at her and tried not to stare as she turned and led him to a booth in a quiet corner of the diner. That was hard with how she swung her hips, so confident and sensual, the seductive poise of a saucy minx. Sam followed with eyes half glued to Kellsie's tight, shapely ass, mentally undressing the waitress to feast on her gorgeous, naked body.  
  
"You're in a good mood today," Sam noted, watching Kellsie all but preen as she gestured for him to be seated. Her bosom quaked perceptibly with the slightest movements. Goddamn, he thought, but those tits were  _incredible_. What cup-size was she? E? F?  _G?_  Double-D's didn't come close to describing her rack. "Get laid recently?"  
  
Kellsie's smile took on a sly quality, and her eyes twinkled.  
  
"Have  _you?_ " she riposted, pointedly and teasingly flicking her eyes down Sam's form.  
  
Sam grinned. He was a handsome man, he knew, and a pretty successful one too. A lot of girls expressed interest, if not when they first saw his face, then when they learned of the number of zeroes in his paycheck. He wasn't  _rich_ , per se, but if he wanted he could give a girl a nice and comfortable life.  
  
"Not if you haven't," he said, both playful and suggestive.  
  
Some of the girls he'd courted would take a moment to puzzle the remark through before they realized what he meant. If not because they were genuinely a bit dull, then because they pretended to be less intelligent than they really were in the belief that he would find them more appealing, more diminutive and  _possessable_  that way.  
  
But Kellsie laughed immediately, and she had her quip ready as soon as the words had left his mouth.  
  
"Do you want to remedy that?"  
  
It was a teasing comment, a joke, and not a serious invitation. Some men would not be able to tell, and would either act nervously remote or get unpleasantly familiar. But Sam laughed in his turn and grinned at Kellsie.  
  
"Do  _you?_ " he asked cheekily.  
  
Kellsie's grin seemed quite genuine as she looked down at Sam. She cocked her hips to one side and adopted a faux contemplative expression.  
  
"Hmm..." she hummed theatrically, bending a little to look Sam in the eye. Her bust fell beautifully within her blouse, the fabric rustling and stretching as the weight of her scarcely contained melons shifted. Sam did his best not to stare—too much—but he did have a pretty good view down her shirt.  
  
It wasn't a particularly low cut top that Kellsie wore. The neckline precipitated just enough that when she leaned over the table like this he could see a modest portion of cleavage, and just enough thereof that he could notice the gleam of something nestled between her large, creamy tits.  
  
She caught him looking and smiled.  
  
"Well, now, do you like what you see? You're sure staring hard enough."  
  
"I do," Sam answered, a touch smarmy in how blithely he said it. He winked.  
  
Kellsie assessed him with glinting eyes and a seductive smirk.  
  
"Do you want 'em for yourself?" she asked him in a low, husky voice.  
  
"Is that a trick question?" Sam responded, only half joking.  
  
Kellsie bent closer still, until her mouth was barely an inch from his ear.  
  
" _I'm dead serious,_ " she whispered. " _These tits, this ass, my tight, juicy cunt... they'll be all yours, if you come around back with me. I can take my break anytime._ "  
  
With that, she stood back up, straightening herself out.  
  
"Now, what'll be your order?" she asked him.  
  
There was only a moment's silence before she had her answer.  
  
"I think you know what I'm having," said Sam.  
  
Both grinned.  
  
  
  
  
Kellsie was a cam girl. Sam knew this. He'd come across one of her performances not long after his first time meeting her at the diner. She knew that he knew, too. Sam couldn't recall how the topic had first come up, but she was well aware that he knew about her night job. She took it with grace, indeed, shrugging and saying the extra money was helpful whenever the subject was mentioned.  
  
Sam had taken to supporting Kellsie a fair deal, and she knew it. He was one of her most generous sponsors, if not the biggest of her fans. She'd often joked that she felt like a hooker when they flirted at the diner, considering how much he paid her. He'd always cheekily reply that they'd not had sex, when she said this, and she'd usually smirk and brush her hair out of her face.  
  
"No, not yet," she would agree.  
  
They wouldn't be able to say  **that**  anymore.  
  
It was quick and dirty. Literally dirty. They fucked behind the dumpster, and despite the smell it was still probably one of the best encounters Sam had ever yet had. Kellsie was a bombshell. He'd seen her naked body countless times on his screen, and had interacted with her plenty in person, but seeing her in the nude right before him, underneath him, was something else entirely.  
  
He'd been with other women, but never before one so voluptuous or sensual. Or skilled. Goddamn, but Kellsie was a  _fierce_  lover, and she was hot too, so hot and moist and silkily tight that he'd been ready to bust his nuts nearly the instant he put his cock inside her. It was by all accounts a very good fuck.  
  
Sam zipped his trousers back up while Kellsie slipped on her trousers. Her chest was heaving, and her eyes were bright. It had been a quick roll in the dirt, and she'd not even bothered to take her shirt off.  
  
Sam was a little disappointed about that. Kellsie had some  _damned_  fine tits.  
  
He wiped a bit of sweat from his forehead and gave Kellsie a grin, still. He couldn't help raking eyes down her figure. If he hadn't just blown his load, he would have gotten hard as rock to see her half-dressed like this.  
  
"Was it good for you, too?" he asked in a playful growl.  
  
Kellsie smiled and reached down the front of her shirt. He watched her retrieve what looked like a small, purple gemstone from her cleavage. It glinted in the sunlight like there was a living flame encased within it.  
  
"Very," she said. "Almost a shame, really."  
  
"Hmm?" said Sam distractedly, still a tad pleasantly bleary from their intercourse. "What is?"  
  
"I think I would have liked going out with you, after all," said Kellsie offhandedly. "You're handsome and charming enough, and you're free with your money, and now I know you're a good fuck on top of it all. It's almost a shame I won't be doing that."  
  
Sam was mildly disappointed by this.  
  
"What, is there someone else?" he asked.  
  
Kellsie smiled and turned the small, violet gem in her hand. Sam looked at it, feeling curiously entranced. There was another glint, and this time it seemed wholly unrelated to any external light.  
  
"Not exactly," she told him. "I've simply found a more elegant solution."  
  
Then there was a blinding flash of light, and Sam had only an instant to wonder what was happening before he blacked out.  
  
  
  
  
When Sam came to, slowly and woozily, dazed and befuddled, it was to find himself in a small room. He was seated before a desktop computer, feeling a slight chill on his skin as he stared into a webcam. On the monitor he saw what looked like a livestream of Kellsie ( _Myself,_  an unthinking part of Sam's mind thought, but Sam did not yet notice this). She was blinking sleepily and stirring only slowly, not doing much at all.  
  
A glance at the chat showed the usual mix of comment flavors—bawdy, rude, friendly, childish, and a even few genuinely witty—with a notable undercurrent of impatience. Most of them were asking when the show was going to start. A few made off color remarks about what they would have done if they'd been in the room with Kellsie. They made it sound as though she'd been sleeping in front of the camera.  
  
Sam blinked and stared at the computer screen. She saw Kellsie, herself, blink and stare south of the camera an instant later. She was sitting in a chair rather like the one in which she sat, in a room the same size as the one she was in. Sam felt an itch, and she scratched at it drowsily. Kellsie scratched the same spot at almost the exact same moment.  
  
An odd coincidence. Odd too was the feel of her skin, and this strange, persistent niggling in her mind, an oddity in her perception and perspective. While she moisturized and took care of herself well enough, Sam did not think her skin was usually this soft or quite this smooth. Idly, she looked down.  
  
She saw something there which simply beggared belief, and yet which did not surprise her as it should have. She had  _tits._  Tits above and beyond mere double-D's, a rack of exceedingly rare quality in size and shape. Even as she looked at the two massive, torpedo shaped breasts she became aware of their weight. She felt a stiffness in his neck and upper back, even as she struggled to understand what she was looking at.  
  
She looked up at the computer screen again. She saw herself ( _Herself?_ No, it was Kellsie, of course) looking up at it too. And she saw her tits onscreen, tits of a size and shape and color that was identical to what she had just seen. Weakly, Sam raised a hand and squeezed one of the breasts she had seen dangling from her sternum. A shiver ran through her, and she gasped, a faint moan escaping her.  
  
The sound of her voice, the distinctly familiar, feminine flavor of her moan, should have been nearly as perturbing as the fact that Kellsie's actions on the screen mirrored hers perfectly, but it wasn't. On some unconscious level she had entirely expected that. Sam continued to stare, and Kellsie stared too.  
  
She reached a hand between her legs, glancing unconsciously at the comments. There was a lot of  _finally!_  and  _about time!_ being thrown around in the chat. Sam groped between her legs, searching for what she had always had dangling there.  
  
She felt nothing, and saw herself, saw Kellsie pawing the seat of her chair a few inches from her cunt.  
  
Numbly, on some level understanding but in the rest of herself refusing to accept it, Sam pulled her hand back, closer up between thighs that were softer and plumper and smoother than she was accustomed to. She brushed a finger up to her groin, where she found a gap moist and warm. She shivered violently when she touched it, feeling a jolt of tingling pleasure.  
  
Sam bit her lip— _Kellsie's lip_ —to keep herself from crying out. Whether in a moan of delight or a cry of uncomprehending horror she could not be certain. This wasn't real. It COULDN'T be real. But she looked at the screen and saw herself touching her cunt as well. Not as she usually would on camera, not with the vigor and showmanship she typically exhibited, legs spread and hips raised high, angled up so her fans could get a nice, clear look at her most intimate places.  
  
She was touching herself tentatively, hesitantly, an almost fearful expression on her face. Some of the commenters were expressing impatience, while others complimented her on a convincing act and asked if she was doing some new kind of roleplay with this show. Kellsie, barely Sam now even in her own mind, reached again to her chest and saw herself do the same. She felt a burning heat on her face, and her cheeks were visibly erubescent onscreen.  
  
She grasped at her bosom, hefting one of the huge, weighty, fleshy globes that dangled from her sternum. Her double onscreen did likewise, and she felt a shiver. She squeezed and rolled the soft, meaty, doughy teat in his hand, feeling it mash and deform sublimely. The screen mirrored her actions. She whined feebly, her voice a half-octave higher than its wont. Panting weakly she fingered at her cunt, feeling it with his digits and nearly losing herself to the sultry, frantic throb that built between her legs.  
  
The Kellsie onscreen did the same as she. Slowly and surely Kellsie felt the realization taking hold of her. She could not ignore it forever. She could not deny it much longer. There was no way it could be possible, yet the proof of her senses, her own THOUGHTS, was something she was conditioned by instinct to trust above any argument of logic or science. On a base and animal level she already knew. In her brainstem, in the deepest parts of her neurology, she'd recognized it from the moment she awoke.  
  
In some way her brain knew what had happened to her before she herself realized. It knew better than she herself could yet grasp. It had perceived and accepted the physical reality of her state from before the moment she first looked down, but her conscious self was still in a way reeling, still trying desperately to justify, to explain, to  _rationalize_  this thing which everything she'd ever been taught convinced her ought to have been completely impossible.  
  
The rest of her simply basked in the glow emanating from her female sex, her pussy, Kellsie's gorgeous cunt. She started to finger herself in earnest, rhythmically if slowly at first. At the same time she continued to heave and fondle her tit, exploring its tissues with slim and curious fingers. She looked at the comments scrolling down beside the stream and saw the gist of what people were saying.  
  
Until then she'd never really thought about this, about what it was like for an attractive, physical, sexual woman like herself, no,  _Kellsie_  to interact with the world—with  _men_. When she was a guy herself, watching Kellsie's streams, she'd never particularly thought about the ways in which so many commenters would address her. She'd noticed, of course, she'd noticed and pondered whether to disdain it or take it as part of the act, the natural interaction between camgirl and fans. At any rate Kellsie had never complained about it, not to Sam at least.  
  
But now she saw with new eyes and considered from the perspective of slowly burgeoning awareness of her condition, as inexplicable and unbelievable as it seemed. She was no longer a bystander watching the chat unfold, but the object of these comments, of those many lewd and even degrading remarks. It made her shiver. Not from disgust, though on some level she almost wished that was the case.  
  
_Yeah gurl show us ur nasty puss._  
  
_i want fuck hard and pregnant you cow_  
  
_Damn you're a slut. Shake dat ass!_  
  
_Suck my 10in cock and drink my gallons of cum bitch._  
  
_Bounce your titties for us! Bend over and spread!_  
  
_ill raep you wit my frends an leav u in dump for cops_  
  
_Your a whore bby dont be shy._  
  
_You like this don't you, cunt?_  
  
On and on it went, an endless barrage of innuendo and abuse, insinuation and solicitation. Whether it was in jest or earnest, banter or threat, the merest fact of all these comments thrilled her in a way she wasn't sure she wanted to accept. Her sex warmed and moistened, her heartbeat quickened, her mind racing and fogging in a haze of shameful pleasure.  
  
This was no longer a matter of confirming, of comparing her actions with the actions of the body on the screen. It was so obvious by now that this would have been the flimsiest and most transparent excuse ever contrived for anything. There was no good reason for her to still be doing this. She shouldn't be sitting here, masturbating in front of the camera. She should be out there looking for the other Kellsie—for her old body—trying to fix this and return things to normal.  
  
But she was enjoying herself. She was enjoying this too much to care, far too much. Kellsie's body was hers now, her ass, her tits, her gorgeous smiling face. All of it was hers to do with as she pleased. She shuddered pleasurably at the thought and spread her legs wider, raising her hips and thrusting her fingers up her cunt more vigorously still, stretching her labia wide apart.  
  
Her ass slapped the seat of the chair. It was a tight bum, but soft and smackable in all the best ways, a twerkable booty that many would give their left arms to fuck. She listened as it thumped the chair and imagined how it rippled and quaked, envisioning the lewd wobble of Kellsie's round, juicy buttocks. Except those were  _her_  buttocks now, this was  _her_ ass. That was at once a mortifying and exhilarating notion. That gorgeous backside was hers, and she could do whatever she wanted with it. Yet anything done to that ass would be felt by her, received by her,  _done to her_.  
  
If it was smacked, she would feel it. If it was fucked, she would feel it.  
  
She shivered.  
  
Great tits leaped in the air with a convulsion of her frame, the fleshy hills trembling. Her tits rose and fell, those enormous flawless tits Sam had long dreamed about and jerked off to so many times before. He'd fantasized about kissing them, licking them, biting and groping them, sticking his dick between them and using them to get himself off, fucking them and coming all over them, covering them with his semen.  
  
But now she touched one of her nipples, her own nipples. They were large and puffy, stiff, warm. It made her gasp to touch the sensitive nub. It felt so acutely aware of everything she did to it, and it seemed hard enough to cut glass. She swirled a finger around the nipple and slowly brought another finger to press it from the opposite side. Her breathing hitched. She closed both fingers together around the nipple, trapping and squeezing it.  
  
_Pinching it._  
  
She moaned out loud.  
  
"Sh-Shit...!" came Kellsie's voice from Kellsie's lips, except that voice and those lips were  _hers_ now, weren't they?  
  
Her cunt burned and throbbed. She felt a tingling ache in her belly or somewhere lower. There was a fire in her loins and an itch in her cunt. She thrust her fingers up deeper into herself, exploring the depths of her pussy, fingering herself harder and harder for her own pleasure and the enjoyment of her audience.  
  
She gasped aloud, moaning lewdly. Kellsie rocked her hips in the chair and smiled dreamily, gaping her mouth wide open and laving her tongue over full, plump, rosy lips. She bucked her hips and finger-fucked herself, digitally raping the inner folds of her sex. Dimly Kellsie wished she could reach deeper inside herself, wished she had something longer and thicker to reach all the places she felt just  _begging_  for stimulation.  
  
Her head swam. Her eyes rolled.  
  
She beamed lewdly at the camera, grinning from ear to ear.  
  
"Hey, studs, like what you see?" she asked huskily, addressing Kellsie's fans. She raised her hips high and spread her legs as far apart as they would go, showing her fans her cunt and her ass and her plump, creamy thighs. "Mm, I'm getting so  _wet_  thinking about all of you. Wish you were here plowing me❤"  
  
Kellsie felt delirious with arousal. She watched more comments scroll down beside the camera feed, fans of hers leering and jeering as she exposed and debased herself for their lustful viewing pleasure. It sent shivers down her spine to contemplate how many people must have been getting off watching her.  
  
She looked at the viewer count and purred, twisting a nipple and thumbing her clit, churning her insides with hungry, skillful fingers. The numbers ticked steadily upward, a count she saw but did not ken, too horny and mad with lust to think or care beyond a vague, pleased impression of how  _numerous_  were the people watching her masturbate in this lewd, womanly body.  
  
A moan. Eyes rolled up to the white in their sockets, her lips contorting and gaping in a delicious grin. Kellsie's fans bantered and sent in requests, flirting and harassing and graphically asserting their desires for her curvaceous form, her voluptuous body, her bouncing tits and wobbling ass and burning, sopping cunt.  
  
She gasped and arched her back. A trickle of drool moistened her lips. Her heart was racing. She could no longer see or comprehend what was happening on the screen. Her world was a blur of sensations, of heat and chill and twist and quiver, of moisture and aridity and electrification.  
  
She was a man? He was a woman?  
  
Sam was in Kellsie's body. Kellsie was the new home of Sam's mind and soul. He did not know how it had happened. She did not care how it had happened. All that mattered was the loveliness of this form, its salacious beauty, and the lust of Kellsie's fans for that very body.  
  
Kellsie felt powerless before this lust. Overcome by desire. Overwhelmed, completely.  
  
"Ah... oh... ohhh, yess, fuck! Mm, you naughty things like this, don't you?" she purred, thrusting violently into her pussy, lolling her head this way and that. She spread her labia wide apart to show it as she fingered herself. "Can you see it? What I'm doing? Don't you wish you were here doing it to me instead, with your fingers or your tongues or your hot, throbbing cocks?❤"  
  
Her mouth watered at this, and her pussy further ached. Damn, that thought excited her far more than it should have. But she couldn't bring herself to care. She wanted cock. She wanted pussy.  
  
Shit, she just wanted sex,  _period_.  
  
Kellsie moaned. She felt her body seize up, her flesh on the cusp of release.  
  
Eyelids fluttered. Heartbeat danced erratically. Breath shuddered and drew itself raggedly in through soft, plump, rosy lips.  
  
Sweat slicked her body, soaking her and sticking her skin to the back of the chair. Her ass clenched, her cunt clamped on her fingers, and she came in a squirt, a spurt, a gush of fluids, nectar, liquid arousal.  
  
"Sssss..." she hissed, shivering as if with a sudden chill. She stared up at the ceiling, her mind blank, her entire being numb with bliss. "Fuck! Oh, fuck me, that feels so good. This body is so lewd. I just want to be  _fucked_. Damn, but why am I so horny?❤"  
  
She went limp, slumping down back over her chair. The world seemed to spin, and all she could reckon was the state of her own body—not even the other Kellsie's any more, but hers alone. She was sweating. She felt a tingling in all her members. Her bosom heaved, vast and voluptuous, quaking delightfully with every littlest motion. Her ass squashed under the weight of her frame, pleasantly compressed on the seat of the chair.  
  
Kellsie smacked her lips and feebly lifted her head. She looked dazedly, blearily at the comments. A euphoric shudder wracked her carnival of a body.  
  
Whore. Cow. Slut. Bitch. Cunt. Sow.  _Woman._  
  
That was how they saw her. She was prey, a thing, something to use and despoil and take and  _have_. She was a trophy, a prize, an amusement. It made her unconscionably happy to think this. She felt so unimaginably glad.  
  
Kellsie moaned and closed her eyes, feeling pleasantly tired. Barely cognizant of her surroundings, she drifted off to sleep. The webcam clicked off.  
  
Somewhere, the new Sam smiled and closed his laptop. Chuckling.  
  
"Heh. That look suits you, Kellsie."  
  
A bright, violet gem glittered on his bedside table.


End file.
